


N'te Tadhall

by LemonPetitFour



Series: The Forming of an Elf Built of Wrath [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Scoia'tael (The Witcher), The Order of The Flaming Rose, relationship implied, twist on Iorveth's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonPetitFour/pseuds/LemonPetitFour
Summary: Cedric sees Iorveth leave intact. He's brought back exhausted, bloody, and missing an eye.
Relationships: Cedric/Ciaran aep Easnillien/Iorveth
Series: The Forming of an Elf Built of Wrath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191905
Kudos: 6





	N'te Tadhall

They had been stuck here for what felt like ages. No doubt it had only been a few days. But an agonizing few days it had been.

The Order of The Flaming Rose had gotten ahold of Iorveth, as well as Ciaran and part of his unit, Cedric included. They had been tormenting the elves by refusing to give them food and beating them, wanting information on Yaevvin’s whereabouts. Apparently a witcher had assisted the fellow commander in an attack against The Order and killed one of their top knights.

But none of them _knew_. Not a single one of them knew where the elf had run off to. They were aware that he had been pretty much exiled in exchange for some deal with Foltest. But they were just as ignorant as The Order in terms of knowing where he now resided, hiding away.

But of course, The Order didn’t believe such “excuses” as ignorance. They spat on the elves, struck them, starved them, no mercy or empathy in their faces mangled by hatred.

“We don’t know, bloede dh’oine,” Iorveth hissed as a knight kicked one of the elves in a cell next to him. They had started using the elves against one another, hurting one to upset the others in hopes that they would crack. Iorveth was to Cedric’s left, Ciaran to his right, and others scattered about in the other cells.

“N'te tadhall me aen seidh, dh'oine!” Iorveth yelled as the man went in to kick again, and again. Cedric flinched minutely at the dull crack that sounded from the elf, the pained wheeze coming from them twisting at Cedric’s heart. A man who knew his way with healing, and there was nothing he could do. They were all in different cells, all of them small but not with bars spaced far enough to reach through.

Iorveth snarled, spitting out horrible words in elder speech that Cedric wouldn’t dare utter himself. He saw Ciaran shift nervously in the cell next to him. The knight stopped, looking down at the crumpled elf in disdain before moving to grab her. He yanked her up, another guard coming in to help manhandle the she-elf. The two men shared a look before nodding.

They went to drag her out of the cell, out of the room, something they had yet to do to any of them. Cedric watched Iorveth’s eyes widen, something frantic glinting there for a second.

“You’ll really take a beaten elf as your first true interrogation? Didn’t think you could sink any lower, dh’oine. Where is your sense of honor?” He said, Cedric seeing this as obviously taunting, trying to get them to reorganize their focus. The knights paused, not as intuitive to Iorveth’s tones.

“You offering to be her replacement?” One of them turned, a smirk twisted on his face.

“I sure as hell wasn’t offering for you to keep taking her.” Iorveth said back. The guards shared a look, then drug the she-elf back to her cell, throwing her down. Iorveth scowled at the treatment. They unlocked Iorveth’s cell, grabbing at him roughly to yank him out of the cell. He spat out words the whole way out of the room, the door clanging with a twang behind them and echoing through the room.

They could still hear Iorveth taunting outside. Ciaran and Cedric shared a worried look. Then they heard the scuffle, the muffled sounds of fists hitting metal and flesh. Then a pained yell and silence again. Cedric worried.

-

They could hear him. Just barely. Screams reaching the sensitive ears of the elves. Everyone was tense. The she-elf beaten was laid curled up, tears streaking down red cheeks silently. Some of the elves whispered to each other, reassuring one another, comforting one another. Cedric leaned his forehead against the metal bars. Ciaran mimicked the action from his own cell, the two watching each other. They were worried.

Cedric drifted off uncomfortably, hoping to drown out the pain of his commander in the only way he could at the moment. He dreamt of a warm fire, a secure home, food and friends. Feeling safe… a man with white hair… a woman with red…

The door flung open, shaking Cedric from his unfit slumber, the same two knights from before holding a limp Iorveth by the arms between them. Cedric lifted his face from the bars, trying to get a look at their commander, at his condition. He heard a few gasps from the other elves, but couldn’t see anything himself.

The knights dragged Iorveth into his cell, Cedric still desperately trying to make sure he was alright. Iorveth’s breath was labored, withering and shaky. The guards shut his cell door heavily, taking a moment to survey the room.

“Let this be a warning to the rest of you.” One said, voice rough and hollow.

The guards stalked out of the room, and the minute they stepped out all the elves were pressed to the fullest extent to their cell walls, trying to see their commander. Many of them spoke, over top of each other, asking if he was alright, if he could hear them, to give them a sign.

And then Iorveth shifted, turning onto his side, eye opening to look at Cedric. Just the one eye opening. The other side of Iorveth’s face was a bloody mess. His eye… his right eye had been gouged out. The injury trailed down his face, cutting down his cheek and through his upper lip.

Iorveth coughed wetly, a shaky hand shoving something between his cell and into Cedric’s. Cedric stared down at the bloody item in shock, struggling to process what was happening. Their commander… He… He was so-

“Key.” Iorveth said, breathless. He coughed, blood slicking down his chin. His eye fluttered shut and he went limp against cold stone. Cedric finally moved, grabbing the key, slicking his palm with his leader’s blood. He frantically stood, fumbling with the key, unlocking his cell. He moved around the room, unlocking everyone’s door.

Elves helped bruised comrades limp out. Ciaran rushed to help Iorveth, Cedric joining him once he had finished letting his friends out. Cedric knew Ciaran for being reserved and calm in the worst of situations, hence his position as second in command, but now Cedric watched the elf shake and panic.

“Ciaran,” Cedric said, voice soft. The elf turned to him, eyes wide, a frown pulling hard at his features, “Calm down. You’re second in command, you have to step forward for them.” Cedric said, nodding back to the slowly gathering injured elves. Ciaran shook, looking down at Iorveth. Their commander was breathing wetly, limp. Ciaran looked back up at Cedric, gaze hard.

“Watch him. Do what you can for him. Be there for him while I have to be here for our unit.” Ciaran said, tone shaky but steadying as he spoke, steeling himself to take the helm. Cedric nodded. Ciaran knew just as well that Cedric would protect Iorveth with his life when he could. Both of them cared for their leader unconditionally. Cedric carefully laid Iorveth’s head in his lap, hoping to cushion him just a bit.

“Everyone, I will go out and survey the area, and come back when I’ve ensured us a path out. Stay quiet, and calm. We’ll be home soon enough.” Ciaran said, keeping his voice low enough that no one would hear from outside. The group nodded, Cedric watching some of them hesitantly shift their gaze down to their fallen commander.

Ciaran made his way out of the room, slipping past the door. The elves murmured amongst one another. Cedric took the time he had to tear off part of his shirt, dabbing at Iorveth’s bloodied face. He tore another strip, wrapping it around Iorveth’s head with as much care as he could muster. The commander shuddered in his hands, letting out a pained noise here and there.

“Will he… will he be alright?” A voice asked, barely a whisper. Cedric looked up, hands still resting carefully on Iorveth’s face. The elf woman looked exhausted, tears still streaking down her face. She was biting her lip, hard enough to break fragile skin and cause blood to seep out. Cedric looked back down at the man in his lap.

He looked back up, “He will be. As long as he’s with us, I’ll be able to heal him from any ailment.” Cedric said, doing his best to reassure her. He had always felt a little out of place in Iorveth’s group, in the Scoia’tael. He wasn’t one for fighting, and didn’t always see eye to eye with other Scoia’tael. But they respected him, needed him, for his healing prowess, his extended and diverse knowledge on herbs and how to utilize them. He was a necessity in his own right.

The group waited impatiently for Ciaran’s return. Finally, he stumbled back in, a sword in hand and two more strapped to his back. He clutched at a shallow cut on his side, bleeding sluggishly. He held out two of the swords, two elves grabbing them, and kept one to himself.

“Let’s move.” He said, breathing hard. The elves rallied behind him, letting him lead them out. Cedric struggled to lift Iorveth, the man bigger and broader than himself. A she-elf came to his aid, helping lift one of Iorveth’s arms over her shoulder while Cedric mimicked her with the commander’s other arm.

They trudged out, Cedric making a note to check on Ciaran when they were finally somewhere safe. They moved as cautiously and quietly as they could, with all their limping and groaning. Iorveth was dead weight between Cedric and the she-elf. She was quiet, very obviously on edge as were the rest of them, looking around uncertainly.

They went through the stone walls, grimy and damp. Their shuffling and pants echoed through the halls. Ciaran wound them through doors and around corners. They came out in sewers, wading through muck and cutting down any of those wretched water creatures they came across.

Ciaran was able to pull them out to the edge of a lake, and from there they went off into the forest. Ciaran pushed them as hard as they could, getting as far as possible, until they finally had to rest when two of their members finally passed out.

They slipped into a particularly shaded area, covered in trees and foliage. And those able were off to work, setting up fires or bandaging friends with what they could. Cedric and the elf woman laid Iorveth down carefully, somewhere out of sight of the others behind a set of bushes and a tree or two. Ciaran struggled his way over to them with a hand still clutching at his side. The elf woman went off to help others, and Cedric was left with two of his dearest companions, both injured.

People immediately began grabbing herbs, making amateur salves and other healing items with what they had. A few elves were able to find leaves to cover wounds, making sure to wash them carefully in a nearby stream.

Cedric started working on Iorveth, calling for elves to help grab supplies for him. He was the head healer, and tending to their leader, so they followed his orders swiftly. He cleaned out Iorveth’s wound, pulling out flesh that would go dead and infect unless taken out, doing all he could not to make himself sick. Iorveth didn’t shift under the touch, just scowled and groaned in his unconsciousness.

Cedric cleaned, applied salve, and bandaged. Ciaran watched, offering a hand here and there in steadying Iorveth’s head and wrapping the bandages. He rested an idle hand against the leader’s forearm when not assisting, rubbing a thumb over clammy skin. Cedric wished he could stitch up the wound, pull together the torn apart flesh of Iorveth’s upper lip and cheek. But for now, the best he could do was pull the make-shift bandages tight and hope for the best.

There was bound to be another Scoia’tael unit nearby who would lend them aid. They would just have to survive through the night and find them.

Cedric went to working on Ciaran, gently cleaning and applying salve to the slit in his side. Ciaran went to move the minute he was finished, walk away, when Cedric grabbed his arm.

“Stay,” He said, voice steady, “Rest with us. I’m sure Iorveth would appreciate you by his side when he wakes up.” He tried. Ciaran frowned, looking around at the unit before turning back to Iorveth and Cedric. He sighed heavily, then sat down.

He helped Cedric situate Iorveth snug between the two, hoping to keep him warm through the night. The other elves settled as well, some already drifting off, all also in piles to ward off any nightly chill.

“You did well. You were strong for us.” Cedric said, words coming out a bit awkward but not lacking any sincerity. Ciaran peeked his eyes open, looking at Cedric tired. He reached a hand over Iorveth, and Cedric took it without hesitation. A thanks of its own. Ciaran closed his eyes, exhausted, and slipped off into sleep, fingers laced with Cedric’s.

Cedric let himself be lured to sleep by the cautious murmur of the elves around him and the crackle of a warm fire. He heard the splash and sizzle as someone put the fire out, keeping them from giving themselves away. And he slept.

-

Waking up was hellish. Cedric was woken by Iorveth groaning and shifting next to him. He heard the man panting, trying to sit up. Cedric, only half awake, was quick to sit up and push Iorveth back into laying down. Ciaran still snored away next to Iorveth, looking peaceful next to the comparatively panicked elf.

“Stay still, and down. You’re very hurt, Iorveth.” Cedric said, voice rough from sleep. Iorveth’s eye flickered around, taking in the green around them. He relaxed under Cedric’s hands, breath still coming fast.

Iorveth’s eye glanced over to Ciaran, looking over him before his gaze turned back to Cedric, likewise looking over him as well.

“We’re both fine. Ciaran has a cut, but he’ll be fine.” Cedric said. Iorveth nodded, slowing his quick breathing. He grabbed weakly at the hand still pressing into his shoulder, holding tight. Cedric frowned down at Iorveth. His hair around his gouged eye would need cut, much to Iorveth’s dislike, to keep it from getting in the wound until it healed. He was so pale, there was no way they’d be able to get him back to their home safely anytime soon. They needed to get assistance as soon as they could.

Cedric went to go get something for Iorveth to drink, ignoring the hum of discontent that followed him. Cedric grabbed a makeshift cup and got water from the stream for Iorveth. He picked a few berries on his way back, a few bushes sprouting with them bountifully here and there.

He got back to Iorveth, helping him sit up just enough to comfortably drink the water and have a few berries. He knew Iorveth was probably sick with pain, but getting something in would be better than nothing. Cedric unwound the make-shift bandages, dabbing at the oozing blood with a torn piece of fabric from his shirt before rewrapping.

“You’re going to be stuck resting for a few days at least. We aren’t in a great spot for that, though.” Cedric said with a frown, placing a cool hand against Iorveth’s warm forehead. Infection wasn’t likely to set in if Cedric kept cleaning the injury regularly, but it was good to check for fever. The current warmth was probably from his exhaustion.

“Are we still near the dungeons?” Iorveth asked, voice rough and hoarse, probably still sore from screaming. The words had a strange sound to them as well, probably from how part of his lip was split in half. Cedric nodded. “There should be another unit nearby, to help us.” Iorveth said. Cedric nodded.

“Ciaran can send some elves out to get help soon then. You need stitching, and we could only make so much salve with the local flora.” Cedric said. He brushed back some of Iorveth’s hair, the locks mangled and dirty. It really was so pretty, especially when clean, perhaps he could just keep it braided out of the way instead of having to cut it.

Iorveth hummed under the hand. He was clearly in pain still, and honestly Cedric was surprised he wasn’t writhing about. Perhaps he was still in shock of the loss, and the pain would come later in the form of phantoms.

Their unit slowly stirred awake, Iorveth resting with his head in Cedric’s lap again. Ciaran woke up, pushing himself away from where he had curled up next to his commander. He saw Iorveth was awake, eyes going wide.

“Are you alright? Are you hurting? Can I get you anythi-“ He was cut off as Iorveth raised a placating hand.

“I’m fine. I have a new mission for this unit, if you would help me assemble it.” Iorveth said. Ciaran nodded, intent and listening.

Ciaran gathered the able members of their group, setting off quickly in search of the other unit. Iorveth had given them the general direction and passcode of the area, as well as explaining a few notable landmarks to utilize in figuring out whether or not they were close. Cedric of course stayed back with Iorveth, caring for him and any others that needed him.

Iorveth had little strength in his limbs and stared listlessly for long stretches of time. Cedric almost thought he had a concussion, but didn’t have a second eye or light to use to test that. The elves who stayed behind tried to fish and hunt, get food while they waited. Cedric braided Iorveth’s hair carefully out of his face. Iorveth tried to return the favor, but Cedric pressed him back down. Another time, he needed rest for now.

The she-elf who had been kicked around by the guards in the dungeons came to kneel beside Iorveth and Cedric, a pile of flowers and beautiful leaves in hand. With permission from their leader, he let her weave flowers into his new braids, lacing leaves into the strands of hair. An apology. Of course, Iorveth held nothing against her, but even Cedric could see the guilt in her eyes. Doing something nice for their leader like this would hopefully alleviate that feeling.

She sat and chatted idly with Iorveth and Cedric once she was finished. Eventually she got up to go see her partner, who had been waving to her from a spot across their makeshift camp. And then it was just Cedric and Iorveth once more.

It was night when Ciaran returned, quite a few new faces in tow. A few of the new elves went to work unpacking bags, pulling out medical supplies and other materials. The units greeted each other kindly, chattering in a friendly manner. Two of them came over to Iorveth, greeting him as you would a commander. One of them pulled out a needle and some thread. Cedric offered to take it from them, stitch Iorveth up himself.

“I’m the lead healer for this unit, as well as a close companion of Commander Iorveth’s. I can handle stitching him up, if you don’t mind.” He said. The elf looked down at Iorveth, questioning.

“Let him do it. He’s been tending to the wound already.” Iorveth waved a hand. He looked far worse than he had this morning, sweat beading his forehead and face pale. He was also shaky, Cedric not commenting on the tremble of his arm.

The two elves stepped away, going off to help others or tend to food now cooking over a fire.

Cedric began to pull the make-shift bandages away just as Ciaran came over to sit next to Cedric. He had brought a bag of supplies, hopefully more salve and actual bandages. Ciaran wordlessly pulled Iorveth’s head to rest in his lap, hands cupping his face. Iorveth’s eye flicked up to look at him, but he said nothing.

The two worked together to pull off the rest of the bandages from torn flesh, being as careful as they could manage. The scar would be horrible.

Ciaran held tight to Iorveth, keeping him from flinching as Cedric stitched flesh to flesh. It was not a pleasant experience. Iorveth clenched his hands so hard that blunt nails cut into skin and made him bleed. He broke into a cold sweat, letting out small noises of pain that tore at both Cedric and Ciaran as Cedric stitched around his missing eye.

He wiped away any fresh blood, applied the strongest salve he could get his hands on, and rewrapped the wound. Iorveth breathed heavily, Ciaran guiding him to make sure he didn’t slip into a pace he couldn’t control. The two did what they could to keep him comfortable, but now that the stitches were in Iorveth groaned and grunted at every little movement.

They weren’t sure how they would possibly manage to get him home in a timely manner. A horse and a carriage or cart would be best, but they didn’t have access to that. The two talked over Iorveth, trying to plan something out.

An elf came over to speak with Iorveth, still showing reverence and respect despite the commander’s obviously weakened appearance.

“Our commander will be coming tomorrow morning as soon as she can. She will bring whatever aid she can, one of our elves is heading back to further inform her on your units situation and needs. We will keep you all under our protection until you are back on your feet.” Iorveth nodded at the elf, giving him a breathless thanks.

With that, hopefully the situation was looking up. Just as they had the night before, Cedric and Ciaran curled tight around Iorveth to ward off the cold of night and hopefully comfort the commander, help lure him to sleep.

A long road was ahead of them, ahead of Iorveth. There was little chance he would be able to properly lead them anytime soon. But with the aid of the other units, they would get a kickstart on his recovery.

Cedric closed his eyes. He slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. I liked the idea of Iorveth getting his scar in a bit of a different way than canon. I would still like to write on Iorveth joining the Scoia'tael, and perhaps his adjustment to life with only one eye.  
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
